


Time in a Bottle

by suyari



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Edging, Hansencest - Freeform, M/M, Prostate Milking, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 11:34:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1743224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suyari/pseuds/suyari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hansens have a tradition, post deployment. The ghost drift makes sure they follow through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time in a Bottle

Scott's whole body is shaking. From the stylish haircut now mussed atop his head, all the way down to his feet, toes curling and arches flexing. His teeth are grinding together, sweat beading down the sides of his face. Herc leans in to lap it up. Long, slow trails that make Scott writhe and moan, desperately trying to achieve the peace he so desperately seeks. 

The vibrations of the massage wand are making Herc's knees go numb, but he knows Scott can feel every last sensation as it courses relentlessly through him. He reaches back for it as tears start to collect at the edges of Scott's eyes, drops collecting on his eyelashes. Lowers the setting. Scott sobs and his hips jerk powerlessly. Herc's hand returns and squeezes, shoving Scott's hips back into the mattress. His baby brother makes a desperate sound and Herc responds, straddling him and allowing their cocks to come into contact. A steady, slick draw that has Scott biting down on his lip hard enough to leave indentations. 

Herc leans in and sucks the lip into his mouth, rescuing it from potential harm. Soothes it with his tongue, laughs a little huskily when Scott's tries to draw him into a kiss. He nips his jaw, then kisses him. 

"Herc," Scott begs, voice hoarse and fucked out. " _Please_!"

"Shh," he soothes. "Just a little more."

"I _can't_!" he gasps brokenly. 

"You can," he assures him. "You're my good little boy."

"Herc!"

"Such a good boy," he murmurs, mouthing down Scott's neck. He ramps the settings up suddenly, body pressed close, pinning his brother beneath him. Scott shrieks and tries to buck to no avail. He's tied down and pinned expertly, and if he really wanted out, he knows how to go about it. 

No, Scott wants this. Which is good, because he needs it. Needs it as much as Herc, if for different reasons. They almost died today. 

"So good," he whispers, hips sluggishly moving. Scott throws his head back, mouth open to release the symphony of sounds that mean he's close. "Did so well today...Love you so much..." He reaches up, clasps Scott's face between his hands and draws their brows together. Scott's eyes open and they stare deeply into one another, nothing secret, nothing hidden between them. Everything shared, everything resonating between them with all the force of everything that makes a person. Herc can feel Scott's _soul_ , and it has been too long since he's touched it. 

And suddenly, he _needs_ to be inside him. More than anything. More than his next breath. Needs to be _connected_ again. To feel him again. To be _one_. 

But there are things they both need _more_. 

"Shh," he soothes as he pushes himself up. "Need you." His fingertips drop against Scott's collarbone, drag slowly down. He flicks both nipples, tweaks them, then gives them a tug. "But you have to be good, Scott. Okay?" He releases one nipple, tugs Scott's legs up - they stop short in a half flexed position, pulling against the restraints - flicks the ring that's flapping steadily between his cheeks. 

"It'll all be over soon, baby," he murmurs, sliding his finger through the loop. Scott whimpers with anticipation. "Gonna take care of you." His other hand finds the cock ring and fits his fingers about it. "But you have to be good. Don't come without me. Or we're starting over."

"Herc! _Herc_!" Scott responds, trying desperately not to thrash. 

"Understood?" he asks, one hand sliding the ring up an inch, the other tugging a bead free. 

" _YES_!" Scott cries, arching as much as possible. 

"Behave," Herc reminds him, voice a low growl. 

Scott makes a small sound, but doesn't move. He inches the cockring along, fingers sliding and material rolling. Turns the beads idly, popping them out every other inch. Scott starts to flush. 

"Breathe."

His brother frantically shakes his head. 

Herc stops. "Scott, look at me."

Scott does and Herc lowers his chin, raises a brow. 

Scott shakes his head again. 

" _Breathe_."

Scott drags in a shaky inhale. He's pushing him, he knows. Scott can only take so much, and he isn't a fan of the razor's edge the way Herc is. "That's my boy," he coos, and removes the ring. Sets it beside the dildo and anal plug which were stage two and three. He _always_ starts with his mouth and hands. "My good boy." 

His baby brother makes a needy sound and Herc pulls the beads free. Not even bothering to turn them off before setting them aside. 

"Need free?" he asks. He doesn't generally care the position they fuck in, as long as Scott's been adequately satisfied before it happens. He knows from the drift just how far is enough, and just how far is too far. And he's walking the line. 

Scott nods. 

Herc reaches up and undoes his restraints, rubs the blood back into his hands and then his feet. Unravels the ropes about his thighs. "Better?" 

Scott nods again, eyes downcast. It isn't shyness. He's eyeing Herc's cock. He can feel the heat of Scott's gaze. Can feel the _want_ in his blood, a solid echo in their ghost drift. 

He strokes over Scott's skin, rocking forward to take him into his mouth. He's careful to go slowly, to barely tease. Scott inhales sharply. "Too much," he gasps. "Gonna..." Herc pushes himself up, understanding, and gives Scott a moment to collect himself. 

"Roll over," he coaxes gently. 

His brother complies, albeit slowly. Muscles cramped and protesting from hours of edging. Herc helps him, brings him slowly down into a position he knows Scott can support and will be comfortable in. Adjusts the massage wand beneath him. 

Scott hisses but says nothing. He kisses over his shoulders and up his neck. "You fuck into that as much as you want, Scott," he murmurs, nipping his ear. "You come, baby. You come and you come, and you let me do the rest." 

Scott moans his name, and to his credit, doesn't move. 

"Such a good boy," Herc purrs, slowly kissing his way down the trail of his co-pilot's spine. "My beautiful baby." 

His brother's hole is winking at him, and it's all he can do not to dive right in. "Scott?" he asks. 

"Mmm?"

"Can I?"

In response, Scott rocks his hips back, drops a shoulder and holds his cheeks open. Herc doesn't hesitate. Slides right in and buries his tongue. This he knows is okay. Scott's cock can get oversensitive to certain stimulation, but his ass...his ass can (and often does) take anything Herc can come up with. He eats him out eagerly, lapping him up like the last of the cream in a fancy coffee. Enjoys the way Scott moans and chants his name as his hips rock back and forth, riding Herc's tongue as much as the toy. 

When he feels him start to clench, Herc rocks up, drags Scott's hips back and slides smoothly in. All that prep and Scott's still tight, body clamping down around him as he fights off orgasm with all the strength he posses.

"Fast or slow?"

"Not gonna make it!"

Fast then. Scott shouts up at the ceiling at the first slam of Herc's hips to his ass. Grounds himself, knees spreading, hands clenching in the bedsheets and holds still. It takes a bit of maneuvering, but eventually Herc can feel Scott's back dip in the way that tells him he's found it. 

"Need it, baby?" he asks, reaching down for the wand beneath them. 

"No, Daddy," Scott gasps sharply. "Just you."

It always pleases him to hear it. Scott completely losing control and falling headlong into the fantasy. He's been so good tonight. So very good. 

Dragging his baby brother's hips close, he sets a quick pace, hips snapping sharply and connecting loudly. He focuses on the sound of their skin slapping together. The swing of his balls as they connect with Scott's flesh. The sounds Scott's making as he drives into him relentlessly. 

"Daddy..." Scott pants. "Oh _fuck_ , Daddy..."

Herc's arm snaps out, fingers burying in the hair just a mite too long for the military, but short enough not to cause a fuss just yet. His fist clenches and he yanks. Scott cries out, hips bucking back once. Twice. Three times. 

He's chanting nothing but a rising chorus of 'yes'. And then he breaks. Herc rides him hard and fast, even as Scott's body tightens around him like a vice. Drags him up by the hair so he can watch the come leak free. He's so stopped up, it pours from him in sluggish bursts, pearlescent streams being shaken free by the force of Herc's thrusts. 

Scott sags back into him, body going loose in exhaustion. "In me..." he rasps, head rolling against Herc's shoulder. "In me, Herc. Nowhere else." 

Herc leans in to kiss his throat, runs his fingers along the underside of Scott's cock to gather his release and feeds it to him. Scott sucks in his fingers, tongue swirling around every spare crevice before turning his head to kiss him. He knows what he's doing; the added flavor in their kiss urging Herc on. Arms come up around him and Scott begins to bounce back against him. Small droplets flying free of his cock and splattering along his torso. Herc drags him back, urges him around and they wrap their arms about one another tightly. 

"Almost lost you," Scott says, cock still leaking as he begins to ride Herc in earnest. Come slides down Herc's belly, collecting against his cock and finding it's way back into Scott's body with every thrust. 

"Still here," he reminds him, dragging him close. 

"Never again. Promise me." 

It's part of their post deployment wind down. They both know it's impossible. They don't care. Still so connected. Still so in _need_. 

" _Never again_ ," Herc swears, and bucks up into him fully. 

Scott sighs, tips his head back and rolls his hips, following Herc's every move until Herc can't tell who's directing who any longer. It does it for him. It always does. 

Arms tightening about him, Scott's mouth engaging his, Herc comes inside his brother. Balls deep and bottomed out and inescapably _**home**_. 

They stroke along one another sluggishly as they recover. Breathing in the same air and sharing lazy kisses. They're one again, and even if it's only temporary, it's enough to hold them over until they're in the conn-pod again. 

Herc holds Scott close and counts his blessings, breathing in his scent until it's burned into his lungs. He wants to remember this moment, and every other like it always and forever. Because there will never be anyone who can make him feel the way Scott does. There will never be anyone he'll love as much, as deeply and completely that without them he isn't _whole_.

Chuck exhales and can smell his Uncle. The sting of sex and his father's own musk. He licks his lips, a confusing taste that he can't even begin to identify, save for the fact that he's aware of the origins. 

His hand is still tight about his cock, the water pounding down across his skin and forcing his hair over his eyes. Which would obscure his vision if they weren't also screwed shut. In his fist his cock is throbbing, and he squeezes tighter even as it oozes come slowly. 

There's nothing worse than post deployment. Cut off from the strength of the drift but not the memories that ghost by as they take their separate showers and turn in for some much needed down time. 

He releases a breath unsteadily through his mouth, dragging a dying groan in it's wake. One day...one day he'll be able to come out of a drift without wanting to fuck his own father. Without wanting to be for him what his Uncle was. Without _wanting_. 

He looks down at himself. At the come swirling down the drain. Sets his jaw as he lets go and tries not to feel so empty, so inadequate, so dead inside. They won. Another kill to emblazon everywhere. That would be enough. It _has_ to be. 

Chuck is a Jaeger pilot. There's nothing else he knows, or wants except...maybe...just _maybe_...

There's a rap of knuckles to the door. "Chuck?" His father's voice is steady, if a little gravelly. He's unsure, Chuck knows. Can feel his heartache through the drift and just wants to help. "Everything all right?" 

"Be right out!" he shouts. Turns off the water and grabs his towel. He rubs perhaps a little too briskly and makes to wrap it around his waist before pausing. He looks down at it, then up at himself in the mirror. It's covered in fog, but he can just make out the shape of his features. The firm resolve on his own face steadies him. 

He drops the towel and grabs the doorknob. 

No time like the present, after all. 

Or so his uncle liked to say.


End file.
